


Return

by jimmytiberius



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yuletide 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8888695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmytiberius/pseuds/jimmytiberius
Summary: There was simply no protocol for how one said goodbye to a former Jacobite prisoner whom one had once propositioned, would now be leaving to work as a groom under a semi-assumed name, and who no doubt hated one’s guts most ardently.
Or, Lord John leaves Jamie at Helwater.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EnglandConfides](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandConfides/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!! I love Lord John as well so I was really excited to get this prompt. The only issue I had was that I own the whole main series, but I don't own all of John's spin-off books, and there's SO much canon to keep track of in this series - I didn't think I was contradicting anything that appeared elsewhere, but I can only be totally sure this doesn't contradict the sequence of events in Voyager (which is where it fits chronologically). If I messed something up from the Lord John books, let me know, and I will be happy to endeavour to fix it!

There was simply no protocol for how one said goodbye to a former Jacobite prisoner whom one had once propositioned, would now be leaving to work as a groom under a semi-assumed name, and who no doubt hated one’s guts most ardently.

_Well,_ Lord John thought, _one must be creative._

“Mr. MacKenzie,” he said formally. Lord Dunsany had left them already, so they were quite alone in the front hall of the house; the terms and responsibilities of James Fraser’s position at Helwater were well laid out, and there was nothing left but for John to leave him there to fulfill them.

The side of Fraser’s mouth curled just slightly, not quite a smirk, but certainly not a smile. He stood silently, waiting for whatever dubious wisdom John intended to impart. He had, at least, taken the advice about his name to heart. John had been somewhat gratified at that – the man was no fool, and was not apt to turn down a useful suggestion simply on account of whence it came.

“I am to return to London in the morning.” John’s voice sounded unnaturally cool in his own ears. “I trust you will find your placement satisfactory. I shall return, as you know, at Christmastime.”

Fraser inclined his head slightly. “I shall expect ye.”

What the devil was that supposed to mean? John stood for another moment, trying to hide his frustration. Fraser’s intense blue gaze shifted from neutral to questioning, and then to knowing as the moment dragged on. John felt as though he ought to shake the man’s hand, or even embrace him, as wildly inappropriate as that would be. He imagined Fraser could see him fighting the urge and flushed. Arms clamped to his sides, he muttered “good night” and escaped up the stairs to the bedroom in which he was staying, leaving Fraser in the hall. Presumably Fraser would leave the house and head back to the stables, where he would have his quarters, such as they were. John was quite decidedly trying not to think about Fraser sleeping, or Fraser in bed, or any related subject.

Still, as he undressed for bed, he could not prevent his mind from wandering. Would Fraser be sleeping in some sort of loft over the stables? The man seemed at quite at home among horses; he made a pretty picture astride one, though, John thought privately, he’d make a prettier picture astride something else. It was not difficult to imagine him in a stable loft, tousled with sleep, perhaps even with a few pieces of straw in his bright shock of hair... _No_ , John told himself sternly. _None of that_. He would leave the man here, and his embarrassing fixation along with him. There would be plenty of entanglements available in London – if he decided to entangle himself in them. _It would be nice_ , John reflected _, to stay away from scandal for a time._

He blew out his candle, resolutely not thinking about red hair, or cunning blue eyes, or the rippling muscles of a broad back marred by years’ worth of scars.

 

The next morning, John took breakfast with Lord Dunsany before parroting his niceties to the rest of the family. He waited by the front door for his horse to be brought around, hoping against hope that it might be Fraser to bring it. But it was another man who did, an older groom John didn’t recognise.

Still, the horse was fresh and already laden with his saddlebags, so there was no reason to delay. Grudgingly, he thanked the groom and swung up onto the bay, settling into the saddle with long-practiced ease. It had been so long since he’d seen London, or his family, or any of the friends he’d left unceremoniously behind when he’d been sent to Ardsmuir. How many days and nights had he spent wishing to take his leave of the damnable place? He had not been a prisoner, but in his disgrace, he had not been truly free either. Now, he had been released at last, and he was lingering unnecessarily in the damp English countryside over a Scottish traitor.

The day was bright and temperate, if humid, and it was not at all unpleasant as he wound his way down the track that led out of the estate and onto the road. It was peaceful. John contemplated the days before him. They would not be overly different from his trip to Helwater, only without a stolid, silent companion. John could not blame the man, truly. He still felt the dim sting of rejection from that night at Ardsmuir when he had reached out his hand and been threatened with death in return. No doubt Fraser believed John had only placed him at Helwater for some nefarious purposes – to try to wear him down, perhaps, or simply to gloat.

He reached the road and turned west. Yes, he understood Fraser’s silence. But the silence of his return journey would be of a less pointed sort, and for that he was grateful. The man’s presence made John feel many things, but it was far less frustrating without him.

The grounds of Helwater spread out behind him. John allowed himself one long moment to look back. The stables were still visible, and John fancied he could just make out a tall red-headed figure standing at a fence, leaning toward a horse in a paddock. No doubt he was using that low, soothing voice he had used on his own horse on the way, speaking gently in the Gaelic until the horse calmed and trusted him implicitly.

By the winter, John had no doubt, Fraser would have the horses at his beck and call, and no doubt he would have earned the respect, however grudging, of the rest of the house staff. It was his way with man and beast, and it had proven uncannily effective. In the winter, who knew what he would find? Perhaps Fraser would be running Helwater by then. One truly never knew with that man.

By the winter, perhaps John’s own infatuation would have passed. He could only hope. For there was surely no chance of the opposite – Fraser would never return his desire. The look of revulsion on his face that night at Ardsmuir had been too strong. John had seen that look; he knew that look all too well.

Still. He could swear that in the moments when he caught Fraser off guard, or surprised him, that there had been something there. It was foolish to delude himself. And yet… Something in that blue gaze that trapped him. Surely he wasn’t imagining things. Surely that knowing gaze had meaning.

Suppressing a shiver, John spurred his horse toward London. The winter was a long way away.


End file.
